


I'm Actually Just a Scribe

by Dach



Series: Galadriel's Hairpin Box [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adorable Ori, Alternative DoS, Alternative Smaug Death, At Least I'm a Decent Writer, Gen, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Like Green Things, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, I'm Too Lazy to Revise This, Ori Is A Sweetheart, Ori is secretly badass, Read, Scribeling Ori, Smaug is an Asshole, Smaug's Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:11:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9137563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dach/pseuds/Dach
Summary: Ori. Innocent, I-can’t-defend-myself-please-cuddle-me, scribeling, “I don’t like green things” Ori had killed the bane of dwarves. And calmly informed the dying dragon that he was naught but a scribe.~~~~~Somehow not a crack fic.





	

 

The dragon roared as it slunk down the mountain, it’s tail whipping about and tumbling trees as it went. Behind the beast ran The Company, trying in vain to catch up and stop the inevitable storm of fire. Smaug’s head turned, and he laughed at the company, his scales glowing brighter in amusement. The dwarves shrunk back automatically. Ori, Fili, and Kili were thrust behind the stronger and older members of the company, practically clutching each other in fear.

**“So wish you me not to harm the men of Laketown?”** asked Smaug. He tutted, or at least, made as much of a tutting sound as his reptilian tongue could manage.  **“Pity. I plan on doing so anyways.”**

The dragon’s lips curled back into what was probably supposed to be a smug smile, but was more like a leer. The younger dwarves- Bilbo not excluded- flinched.  **“And you may watch your precious men burn, just like how they did at Dale and how the Dwarves of Erebor fared last time.”** Smaug lowered his face, bringing himself eye-to-eye with the paralyzed company and ignoring Dwalin, who was hacking at his harder-than-mithril scales.  **“I will burn the dwarf out of you. And don’t try to run.”** Smaug smirked.  **“I’ll be back for desert shortly.”**

And then, with a great flourish of wings, he was airborne. But as he banked in the wind, about to dart for Laketown, Ori broke away from Dori, who had been containing him, heedless of his older brother’s fearful cry. Even Nori leapt for his younger brother, momentarily forgetting the terror of the beast above them. Yet, instead of running into his brothers’ arms, Ori yanked one of Fili’s daggers from his belt, and hurled it towards Smaug. His whole body turned with the force of his throw, and the dagger spun towards the dragon, glinting as it went and flashing whenever it caught the moonlight. Smaug didn’t turn in time, and the small tool buried itself within his eye.

Despite the dragon’s roar of pain and rage, it didn’t dislodge, and he was forced to the ground, still flapping and trying to orient himself despite the white pain blinding him. Before Smaug’s talons had even touched the ground, Ori had darted forward, having withdrawn a sword he had snatched from the treasury. His wings still whipping the wind about furiously, Smaug roared as the sword sunk into his chest, silver hilt gleaming.

The dragon seemed to realize a moment too late that the blade of the sword was edged with black iron. The beast roared, tossing his mighty head about, but it was already too late, and the iron was melting into his blood, no doubt weighting down the vessels and bursting them. Smaug tried one last bellow, but it ended in a wheeze and his mighty head fell to the ground with a defeated thump. 

**“Curse you… warrior,”** rasped Smaug. Ori grinned in a near delirious fashion

“I’m actually just a scribe, O dragon.”

Smaug’s yellow eyes widened, and then dulled, closing for the last time. Ori pulled out his sword out of the dead dragon, and was pleased to see that the black iron had melted off; the sword was still glowing with heat. And then he turned around to see the rest of the dwarves gaping at him.

Ori. Innocent, I-can’t-defend-myself-please-cuddle-me, scribeling, “I don’t like green things” Ori had killed the bane of dwarves. And calmly informed the dying dragon that he was naught but a scribe.

And he was just blinking innocently at the gaping Company of Thorin Oakenshield.

“... What?”

They didn’t answer.

“Do I have something on my face?”


End file.
